


Regicide

by jecook



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Fantasy AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-06-16 11:37:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15436209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jecook/pseuds/jecook
Summary: When a noble's son gets bored of his life, he decides to become an assassin--and it seems the King himself has asked him to kill a rival king. The journey might be long, but Octavian runs across an annoying girl named Rachel who will aid him on his mission. Fantasy AU, Implied/Slight Octachel. Oneshot.





	Regicide

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm moving my stuff over from ff.net finally. Not everything will move, just the stuff I still care about or might continue adding to. Or idk. Maybe most stuff will move. Hopefully by moving some stuff over to ao3 I get inspired to finish all my many, many works in progress.  
> Hope you enjoy. :)

Between the King of Armon and the King of Heilo, it's difficult to say who hated the other man more. Their queens hated each other with the same passion, and their subjects followed suit. The kingdoms clashed with one another over many centuries, but neither nation could overpower the other.

  
This sentiment is what led King James Smith of Armon to hire an assassin, tasking him to kill King Dare of Heilo. King Smith knew full well that this assassin was the son of a noble. He knew that the young killer hadn't done but a handful of jobs. And he knew that if the boy was caught, it could mean war. But the King had a hunger in him, and he refused to take back the order to kill.

Therefore, Octavian of Armon set out to claim the head of King Dare.

In order to reach Heilo, Octavian had to travel through the mountains. But these towering peaks were impossible to traverse, so he would need a guide to take him through the cave system within the mountains, and from there he would need to explore and master the foreign terrain of Heilo.

So he went to a bar to get wasted.

“May the God Sara save you, Octavian. Why'd you want to get into this dirty business anyhow?” Michael, an old friend of Octavian’s, sat opposite him at a small table. Michael hailed from the fishing colony on the island known as Deaphnroks. The island was plagued by storms, sharks, sea monsters, and pirates. It was surrounded by large rocks that inhibited ships from docking. The story goes, a heavily accented sailor cried out in shock, “It's death and rocks, boys!” And now it was known as Deaphnroks.

Mike was a pretty upbeat guy considering he was raised there.

The two eighteen years olds glugged down their beers. Between swallows, Octavian answered Mike’s question. “Well,” glug, “it beats noble mannerisms and getting ahead in the world through marriage.” Big swallow. “Plus,” Octavian licked his lips. Michael watched him from behind his pint.

“Waiting,” Mike said.

“I do get to travel a great deal.”

Michael looked into his now empty glass distastefully, “You have to kill people.”

Octavian shrugged, “Well, yes.”

Michael sighed, “You do you, just stay alive for me. And don't take any more jobs as stupid as,” he leaned forward and whispered, “Regicide.”

The blonde cocked an eyebrow.

"Don't do this ever again. Promise me?”

“Fine, fine.” Octavian chuckled, “For now, let's have another round.”

“Ayy, there's my friend!” Michael laughed and called the barmaid over.

* * *

 

“Regret,” muttered Octavian, “is a powerful feeling.” The morning was hot under the beating sun, but the assassin was dressed for cave travel and nursing a headache. He had layered on a thick wool wrap over his dark leather armor, not to mention his longbow, quiver, traveling pack, and throwing knives.

His guide seemed to be late. They had agreed to meet at dawn, just before the sun peeked into the sky, but Octavian found himself alone, and very much annoyed regarding such fact. The short old man who had promised Octavian safe travel just two days before was roughly an hour late and the boy was getting antsy.

The question now was whether or not he should brave the underground caves alone, or continue to wait in possible futility. Going alone could mean being lost in the labyrinth that was the underground pass, or it could mean facing ghastly creatures without anyone to report on how he died. The notion of facing death unremembered was a touch upsetting to the noble youth.

Option two didn't seem much better, though. The old man could have passed on from age, he could have been mugged and offed at once, or he could have swindled Octavian. In other words, Octavian could find himself waiting even longer and be forced to go on alone despite the extra wait.

After thirty more minutes dragged themselves by, Octavian slipped into the caves on his own.

* * *

 

The cool was a relief. Nothing in Octavian’s mind doubted that. His lantern flickered weakly, but it was enough to spot giant cave slimes in the distance. Moments such as those, the bow came in handy.  
For nearly a mile, the path was obvious and mostly straight. Octavian had heard that some apparent forks in the road might just be a small divulsion in the path the recombined further down. He hoped that he only ran into those.

So after half an hour or so, Octavian came to his first fork in the path. A narrow corridor continued straight forward, while a wide path inclined upward and seemed to snake on and on. Both looked to be going forward, although either one could suddenly turn in the wrong direction or come to a dead end.

Just as he was mulling over these distinct possibilities, Octavian heard someone cursing and grunting from down the small corridor. There was a girl there, her figure barely seen by the lantern light.

Her ginger hair was bright despite the darkness, leaving Octavian agape as she squeezed through.

She finally cleared the narrow section and plopped on the ground, panting and running fingers through her wild hair. She looked up at Octavian, who just stared at her.

After an awkward minute, she spoke, “Traveling to Heilo, I see. You, er, seem… Well equipped!”

Silence.

She continued, “Personally I'm going to Armon, maybe even further. I'll have to see what Armon is like. Are you from around there? How is the place?”

Octavian was just in awe that he had found someone else in the caves. Someone who had made it this far already. Someone who might be able to--

“Can you take me through the caves to Heilo?” Octavian fell to his knees in front of her, taking her hand. He looked like a sincere beggar.

“I… Um…” She fidgeted with the edges of her simple tunic nervously.

“Sorry, but my guide didn't show this morning and I need to get through the underground. You've made it here. I'll pay you well if you can. It'll help you make a start in Armon or wherever you decide to go.”

“I don't…”

Octavian leaned in desperately, “Please. Gods sakes I need a guide in order to survive these caves.”

The girl held his eyes for a moment. He seemed determined enough to her, and the pay could be quite helpful.

“My name is Rachel, thanks for asking. I'll take you as far as the exit to the caves but that's it.”

“Thank you, thank you so--”

“And you can stop your sniveling. I get it. The pay better be good, though.”

Octavian cleared his throat and stood. That had actually worked! He cracked a smile. “Understood. I can pay you once I finish my business in Heilo. Can you wait until then?”

Rachel rolled her eyes, “Sure fine. Let's get going.”

“Lead the way, ma’am.”

“Don't call me that.”

“Of course. My deepest apologies.”

“Just shut up, will you?”

“May it be your will.”

“Ugh.”

And so the pair dove deep into the caves...

* * *

 

… And popped out the other side in the wooded land of Heilo.

Heilo nearly glowed from how bright green it was. The grass, the trees, the ferns; they were all so... green. Squirrels ran through the trees, birds chirped overhead, and Octavian could hear a babbling brook nearby. The forest reminded him of old storybooks, and he welcomed it in contrast to the dark, cold, treacherous cave system in which every half mile some obstacle had blocked the path.

Octavian had found himself having to worm through several narrow spaces, jump across pillars, and balance on the tiniest ledges where falling would more than likely result in him either being a cave pancake (splat!) or a cave shish kebab (ouch!), and neither sounded too appealing to Octavian.

He opted to take a moment just to breathe in the fresh air of the woods before Rachel went back to talking. Octavian found her somewhat annoying. She was abrasive and spoke rather informally, but still, he needed the girl as his guide through the underground. And she would have to take him back through it as well.

“You’ll have to look out for traps here in the woods. Those things are people-traps, not hunters looking for meat. Just the army trying to stop enemies. The local elf kids get stuck in them from time to time. Real pain to deal with.”

“I can imagine.” He could. Traps would only hold him back, and besides, they’d hurt like nothing else if he got spiked by one.

Rachel tapped her foot, “Some of the traps are poisoned. Look out for those especially. I’m going to wait right here by the cave. You have ‘til tonight to finish whatever and get back here.”

Octavian practically choked, “You don’t mean to say we’ll be in the caves during the night? That would be suicidal!”

“Not much different than during the day, to be honest. I did it last night. Speaking of, I’m pooped. I’ll just nap here. Wake me when you get back.”

Octavian was right about to protest when someone new emerged from the trees nearby.

“Your highness!”

Both Octavian and Rachel snapped to see who spoke. A tanned man in Heilo standard armor stood at the treeline. He carried military issue sword and shield, and Octavian made no hesitation to judge him as “no one special” (Number 54, since Octavian had started counting the “no one specials.”)

The soldier continued to speak, “Oh Princess! Your father was so worried about you when you disappeared last evening. Why, he sent many of his guards, such as myself, to search the wood for you.

Has this man kidnapped you? He does dress similar to the scum of Armon. Oh, dear Princess, I will vanquish this spy of King Smith’s!”

“Rachel,” Octavian started while jumping back from the soldier, “You didn’t mention that you are royalty.” He deflected the man’s attacks and hopped back more, all the while shrugging off his longbow.

“I didn’t?”

“No, don’t believe so.” Octavian notched an arrow and fired at the soldier’s shoulder, between plates of armor.

“Guess that was silly of me.” The guard clutched his arm in pain. Octavian drew several arrows and fired in quick succession. “But I am the Princess," she said, trying to be nonchalant.

Knee. Torso. Chest. Neck.

Rachel swallowed, hard. “The only child of the King of Heilo.”

Octavian retrieved his arrows from the body. “How interesting.” He sighed and turned to face Rachel, studying her. “Since we’re both being so honest with each other, I am in Heilo on a job to kill the King.”

“Small world.”

“Quite so.” Octavian shed his extra robes so that his leather showed, bundled up his clothes, and stashed them beneath a strange looking fern. He would remember that fern, with its three-pointed leaves and red tinge.

“So…” Rachel cleared her throat, “knowing that, now…”

Octavian sighed and mentally prepared himself to shoot the Princess.

“Can I help?”

Octavian sputtered and shook his head, “What?”

“Ooo I caught you off guard there. Really, though. I’ve run away from my father. He’s a huge jerk. I’d like to help. I bet it would help me earn favor when I move to Armon.” Rachel batted her eyelashes innocently.

Confused, Octavian countered, “Why not stay and take the throne when your father dies?”

She seemed to mull over that for some time before coming up with an answer, “I’d rather let the Elves take over Heilo. It’s mostly their people that populate the region, and so they should rule over it. The humans moved here and destroyed their way of life. Perhaps I can stay long enough to formally turn over the kingdom to them.”

“Well that’s very,” he paused a moment, “That’s very responsible. Respectful, even.”

“Thanks, I guess. C’mon, let’s go murder my dad.”

* * *

 

Rachel proved to be very adept at traveling through the trapped forest. She could disarm traps and slip past them with ease. Octavian wasn’t horrible at it, but he nearly loaded his leg with poison on multiple accounts.

She teased him an unfair amount over that.

“I’m just saying. What kind of assassin can’t even maneuver his way through such basic spring-loaded traps? This is regicide we’re talking about.” And some time later, “What kind of king is Smith that he sent a fresh little assassin like you to take out his rival King?” And after a close call with a pitfall trap, “Maybe he wanted you to die here in Armon. Or… are all Armonians this klutzy?”

“Okay, okay! Haven’t you had enough fun?” Octavian said bitingly as Rachel led on through a particularly thick patch of trees.

“Nope,” she stated, shaking leaves and twigs out of her hair. They moved through the woods some more to the edge of a thicket. Octavian was about to make an argument for himself when Rachel turned and said, “Keep your voice down over here.”

Octavian knit his brows, “For what good reason?”

She pointed past the bushes and trees. Past the thicket, Octavian could make out some men in uniform armor moving around. White and orange tents decorated the woods. One large orange tent sat in the center of the others.

“Oh,” he breathed.

“Yeah.”

The two turned to each other and nodded. They had seen enough of the camp, and Rachel had royal knowledge enough to confirm which tent must have been her father’s, although it didn’t take much thought to figure it out.

The pair retreated from the area into a different clearing, and much to their surprise, a catapult stood there. And only one guard stood next to the heavy construct.

Octavian cleared his throat and approached the guard. Rachel hissed at him and shook her head, but he waved her off and moved forward.

“Excuse me, good sir!”

“Hullo!” He had a deep voice, and the man spoke slowly. Octavian noted this as interesting.

“Yes, hello! I was wondering if I could borrow this here catapult for just a second.”

“Oh.” The guard looked Octavian up and down, then the catapult, then Rachel. “Well.”

“Yes, well?” Octavian pressed.

“I think i’s broken. But if it worked I would let you use it.”

Right as Octavian’s spirit died out, Rachel sprung up. “If we fix it, can we use it?’

“Uh.” The man looked at Rachel as if she were completely new and very scary. “Yus?”

She bounced up and down. “Great! We’ll get started.”

Octavian blinked, “We will.”

“Yes,” she elbowed him in the side, “We certainly will.”

After looking over the catapult, it became clear that they needed to replace several parts. Rachel groaned while looking over the worn ropes. “Why are we doing this? Let’s just shoot--”

“Quiet!” Octavian looked over at the guard. “He’s stupid but we don’t want him getting any bad feelings about us if we can help it, alright?”

Rachel huffed, “Alright.”

“I’ll gather some wood and we’ll see if we can’t get this to fire at least once.”

Rachel nodded, “Let me see your bow and arrows.”

“Why?” Octavian said defensively.

“Because you also have throwing knives and I’m defenseless.” She tapped her foot. “So?”

“So what? You’re the Princess. You don’t need to defend against your own men.”

She reached forward, despite Octavian’s pretests, “Just... C’mon… Gods, finally. Now go collect some woods.”

Octavian stuck out his tongue as he trudged over to the edge of the clearing and began searching for suitable wood. Three hours later, after helping an elf hunt so that Octavian could have the guy’s hatchet, Octavian had cut the wood he needed and the catapult was looking less terrible than three hours prior. The rope was a loss, but Rachel was certain that they could get at least one shot out of it. Octavian had less faith, but he loaded the catapult with a barrel of explosives nevertheless.

“I hope we aimed it right,” said Rachel.

“Ready?”

“Anytime.”

Then Octavian unlatched the bowl of the weapon and sent the barrel flying. Everyone in the forest heard the barrel hit its target, and the smoke rose high in the sky. Rachel whistled. Octavian simply watched as the fire spread. Not for long, though, as the guards came running.

“Run,” Octavian said.

Rachel turned, “This way!” She dove into the trees, and Octavian was close on her heels. They sped through the woods, barely clearing traps as they ran past. Behind the two, Heilo soldiers cried out for blood. They ran faster, not caring where they were headed so long as it was away from the oncoming army. “I think I see a camp up ahead. Hopefully the Elves will protect us!”

Octavian nodded, and as they rounded a pitfall trap, his foot caught a trap and several spikes cut into his calf. He yelped and fell to his knees. Rachel stopped and grabbed his arm, “We need to keep going. Now.”

“I know, I just--gods!” He stumbled to his feet, Rachel helping him as well, then they continued toward the Elf camp.

Rachel had been right, and the Heilons stopped before they came too close to the Elves’ territory. She breathed a sigh of relief as the Elves came running over to them.

* * *

 

Rachel ascended to the throne the following morning and handed it over the Elves that afternoon. The new Elf King let Rachel stay in the castle. Octavian stayed there as well, as he needed to recover from the poison on the spike trap. The Elven healers worked their magic (literally) on his leg, and even though he was bedridden for now, he would make a full recovery. Rachel stayed by his bed until he woke up, though. After all, she had a payment to collect on.

Once he could walk on his leg, Octavian and Rachel traveled back to Armen to collect his reward. The two agreed to take a boat from a once-secret now-legal Elven port around to Armen, where they made their way to King Smith.

The King sat in his throne, head rested on his fist, and looked down on Octavian as the assassin recounted his story. King James Smith had dark skin and a shaved head and wore deep purple robes, making him look serious and regal on his throne. The King sighed, “I suppose you want the reward I promised you, hm?”

“Yes, your highness.” Octavian had been kneeling before the King the entire time he’d been in the throne room and had started to wonder if he would ever be allowed to rise.

“Well alright then. Ten thousand gold pieces, and no more. You may collect it once you leave the room.” The King turned to his advisor beside him and mumbled something, then the advisor took his leave.

“Thank you, your highness.” Octavian bowed his head even further.

“Mmm, whatever. Please leave.”

Octavian nodded and backed out of the throne room, turning only as he reached the threshold. As the heavy double doors slammed behind him, a halberd nearly took his head off. Octavian yelped and countered, then used the halberd to slam the guard who had attacked him. A second guard lunged. Octavian dodged, rolled forward, and cleaved the man’s hip. While the guards were dazed, Octavian took his chance to bolt from the castle.

Rachel waited for him outside, and he took her hand and ran. She didn’t have to ask what had happened, she only huffed, “This is just like Armonian royalty if you ask me.”

“I’m not--!” He yelled.

They crossed through the market square, "Not what?"

Octavian pushed passed people and ducked through an alley to avoid more guards, "Not asking you!"

It took rounded several more corners before they lost the King's men. The two ran out of the city, Octavian's leg flaring in pain. Once they felt that they were a safe distance from the city, they halted.

“So,” Rachel laughed, “Where should we adventure off to next?”

Octavian stared at her for a brief moment, incredulous, then he laughed hesitantly, “Why don’t we just go live with the Elves for now?”

They didn't go straight to the elves. Instead, they chartered a ship with the last of Rachel’s runaway-royalty cash she had stashed away, and in the end decided to explore Deaphnroks, where Michael welcomed the pair with open arms.

**Author's Note:**

> I did a meager amount of editing on this. I really should have done more.


End file.
